


you provide the food, I'll provide the perspective

by wintervioleteye (hawkguyed)



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Clint Cooks, Community: avengerkink, Hawkeye pork roast, Iowa, M/M, Recipes, Slice of Life, corn and tomato salad, domestic life, no there is no cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-10
Updated: 2012-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-30 21:43:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/336482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkguyed/pseuds/wintervioleteye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson comes home to simple domesticity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you provide the food, I'll provide the perspective

**Author's Note:**

> This actually started as a response to the [avengerkink](avengerkink.livejournal.com) prompt for a domestic scene after Clint and Coulson secretly get married, but LJ seems to be down or not liking me so meh. Not so much washing dishes together, instead have a little slice of life.

The apartment smells like one of Clint's kitchen days when Coulson unlocks the door and steps in. 

It'd been one of the more peaceful days that doesn't require the entire team to save the world and bury Coulson in a mountain of reports and requisition forms, and Clint is still saddled with mandatory medical rest, so he's coming home to the apartment he shares with the archer ever since they'd gotten married (secretly, with Natasha as their witness) at seven in the evening with a bag of newly bought milk and orange juice cartons from the grocery store down the street to the smell of home-cooked food. 

Specifically, Clint's home-cooked food. It's something the archer had started doing not long after he'd moved in with Phil because he knows the agent tends to subsist on take-out and SHIELD cafeteria food with the occasional box of donuts or granola bar Clint leaves on the desk whenever he invades the office to appropriate Phil's desk. 

Phil crosses over to the kitchen, loosening his tie as he does. There's a bowl of corn and tomato on the kitchen table, and Clint is standing at the counter, salt shaker in his uninjured hand. 

"Last time you made that, you nearly over-salted it." 

Clint grins, setting the shaker down as he turns to face Phil. He's still a little pale from being thrown into a wall and his arm is still bandaged, and Phil can spot a couple of crimson dots where Clint's most likely disturbed the stitches again from his kitchen adventure even though he'd been given specific instructions to rest for the day. 

"In my defense, we were running on two hours of sleep, and you had nothing else in the fridge." 

The archer steps away and goes to retrieve a plate of pork roast from the oven, setting it on the table as he speaks, right next to the corn and tomato salad. Phil doesn't want to see the disaster that he knows is piled in the sink, because for every culinary marvel Clint creates, there's sure to be kitchenware Armageddon close behind. Instead he stows the juice and milk cartons away in the fridge before taking a seat opposite Clint. 

Clint is already spooning corn and diced tomatoes onto Phil's plate when the older man curls a hand around his, fingers light against the bandage. It makes the archer pause, stray corn kernels rolling off the hovering spoon, and Phil takes the opportunity to lean over and press a gentle kiss to Clint's callused fingertips. 

"Stop pulling your stitches, medical will have your head." Phil touches the crimson spots on the white bandage as he leans back, much to Clint's veiled chagrin. He's had worse, this isn't the first time he's been put through a wall anyway, Phil knows that more clearly than anyone because he files the reports in that neat script of his but still the agent (secretly) worries. 

The pork roast is sliced up in no time because Phil flat out refuses to let Clint handle the long handled knife, instead the agent makes quick work of it, depositing the first few slices on Clint's plate. This is starting to become the norm now, on days where they aren't out in the field, huddled under a tent or on a rooftop, and Clint secretly still can't quite fathom the utter domesticity of it all, especially when they're used to coming home six days out of seven too exhausted to do anything but tumble into bed curled around one another. 

Clint presses his toes against Phil's ankle as they eat. He gets a raised eyebrow for his trouble, but a moment later there's a light pressure against his toes that make the archer grin.

Phil gestures in the general direction of the kitchen with his fork, to the unnaturally high pile of dishes sitting in the sink. 

"You're not getting out of helping to do dishes later though," and Clint laughs around a mouthful of corn and pork roast.

**Author's Note:**

> For the curious, the recipe for Hawkeye Pork Roast can be found [here](http://allrecipes.com/recipe/hawkeye-pork-roast/detail.aspx), similarly, [corn and tomato salad](http://allrecipes.com/recipe/corn-tomato-salad/detail.aspx).
> 
> Comments are loved. And appreciated, greatly.


End file.
